


Tea for Two

by steviatea



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bisexual Female Character, Business, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian Character, Post-Divorce, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviatea/pseuds/steviatea
Summary: Recent divorcée Kim Wexler takes on a job at Madrigal Electromotive.  Lydia Rodarte-Quayle takes a liking to her rather quickly.
Relationships: Lydia Rodarte-Quayle/Kim Wexler, Past Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Ode to Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter Quexler fic, so here we go! This is somewhat slow burn-y in that their relationship will develop over time into something more intimate than business relationships. This fic takes place after Better Call Saul, going with a scenario where Kim and Jimmy don't stay together.
> 
> Thank you to sheepwolves for beta-reading!

Kim has been alone for some time now, but she still wakes up most days expecting to feel Jimmy’s arms wrapped around her. She expects, subconsciously, to feel his warmth beside her body. It’s difficult for her to shake that she’s on her own, and painful to comprehend the reality that a man who was her _husband_ has become her _ex-husband._ There’s a certain sort of cognitive dissonance about the situation; on one hand, Kim logically understands that she is no longer with Jimmy. On the other hand, she’s still expecting him to be here with her in spite of the aforementioned divorce.

This time when she wakes up, she’s greeted by the sound of the radio, a pop song from the late nineties emanating from an alarm clock beside her. Stifling a yawn, her eyes lazily flutter open to greet the new day. This time, she’s not at home but instead in a hotel, in a city far from Albuquerque. The alarm clock by her bed isn’t one she’s accustomed to using at home, and she takes far too long searching for the button to turn it off. The music comes to a sharp halt when she does figure out how to turn the alarm off, and Kim is met with quietness, the only audible sound near her being the low lull of the air conditioning unit by the window.

Kim retrieves her cell phone on the nightstand beside her, which she left close to the alarm and easily within reach. When she flips the phone open and it lights up, her first instinct is to check for calls and text messages. Yet, there’s nothing this time around, and the lack of notifications leaves her feeling somewhat disappointed. Some time ago, she’d have the pleasure of waking up to a voicemail from Jimmy, or a good-morning text. There is nothing from him now, though, and nothing from anybody else. She is reminded of her own loneliness then, far from home and further from the love she once shared. 

Ever since the divorce, Kim’s spent plenty of hours of her life contemplating what would’ve happened if the two of them had just communicated better, or if Jimmy hadn’t gone down such a dark path. The less confident part of her particularly loves getting stuck in a loop of wondering how things would’ve gone had _she_ done things differently. 

The memories are nevertheless fresh and present in her mind; she can still feel his touch ghosting over her body in her dreams, his lips against hers, his warm breaths and the fresh taste of clean teeth kisses — god, she misses that intimacy so much. She misses him so much that the ache could carve a hole in her.

 _Saul Goodman_ dove into a dangerous line of work that was far beyond even Kim’s level of comfort; a facade induced by deeply internalized trauma that went beyond surface level soon led to inevitable complications in their relationship. He’d gone through things that he couldn’t even speak about around Kim. So much had changed. _Jimmy_ changed. Hell, Kim _herself_ had changed in ways she wasn’t proud of.

Perhaps their marriage had been doomed from the start. That train of thought still wouldn’t have made the process any easier.

Kim still goes about each day of her life, functional and working, even though she hurts. In fact, today, she _really_ has to push herself to get out of bed, as she’s got an interview with a potential employer, and that’s not something she intends on missing. She's come all this way and won't allow herself to fall behind.

So, she pulls herself out of bed on-time, hits the shower immediately — it’s a hotel shower, but she’s brought her own shampoo and conditioner from home, because simple comforts like that help when traveling. The water pours down upon her body and she’s infinitely grateful that she’s able to afford a pretty decent hotel, because the water pressure here is _fucking incredible._ She almost wishes she could spend an extra few minutes enjoying the shower alone, but she still needs time to get dressed, eat breakfast, and do anything else she might want to do before checking out.

A wave of anxiety hits her as she’s getting dressed, though she can’t necessarily pinpoint why she’s getting herself worked up. She’ll chalk it up to anticipation; applying for a new job has always been kind of intimidating, and doubly so when said new job is in a faraway city. In the long-run, starting over in a new place will likely help with moving on, but such a concept is much simpler in theory than it is in practice.

All the same, though, she finds that there’s a certain thrill in being this far away from Albuquerque; Houston is far enough that she won’t have to get a mini-panic attack every time she sees her ex’s face on a billboard or on the television. No local fame for Saul Goodman here, just endless opportunities to explore and make new memories, provided Kim actually gets hired for the job she’s gunning for. She’s still surprised she got a call back from the place so soon after she’d sent in her resume; it’s far more expansive of a company than Mesa Verde in the fact alone that it’s international. The company, a German-owned conglomerate known as Madrigal Electromotive, wants to hire her for their legal division in Houston. 

Kim closes the door to her hotel room behind her, double checking that she has a keycard by giving her pockets a hasty pat-down. It’s one of those _‘just in case I forgot’_ habits — she’s had a few isolated incidents in the past where she’s accidentally left her keycard hotel rooms and she’s determined not to make that mistake again.

She takes advantage of the complimentary breakfast that the hotel offers: waffles and bacon with room-temperature orange juice and some relatively fresh fruit on the side. All the while, Kim can’t help but to reminisce on the breakfasts she’d shared with her ex-husband, the adventures they’d shared while staying in places like this one. Had this been a five-star hotel, had her and Jimmy still been together, they might’ve made plans to scam the nearest intoxicated banker at the hotel bar. They would’ve left giggling, giddy from the high of getting free drinks or pulling off a successful little scheme.

 _Maybe in another life,_ Kim thinks to herself. She tries not to linger on the thought as she’s waiting for her cab. Anxiety is prompting a fresh craving for nicotine, but she doesn’t want to make a bad first impression for her interview with any lingering cigarette smoke on her outfit. So, she opts through looking through brochures for various nearby restaurants and attractions that Houston has to offer. After all, if she gets this job, she’s going to need to know her way around the city once she moves here. Knowing a place or two to get a bite to eat might help.

The taxi driver is a polite middle-aged woman with smile lines, brown eyes, and a noticeably thick Texan accent. “You must be on your way to something important,” the woman comments in a rough-sounding but nevertheless kind tone of voice. She makes a courtesy glance at Kim, getting a look at her formal-looking outfit and raising an eyebrow. “‘You here on business?” She asks as she turns her focus back on the road, beginning to pull out of the hotel parking lot.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Kim replies with a tight-lipped smile, blue eyes flitting from the window to the woman driving. Her gaze shifts back to the surrounding city, eying the tall buildings that stretch high into the sky above. Everything here is unfamiliar and new. Elaborating a little, Kim says, “I’m on my way to a job interview, actually. I came here all the way from New Mexico.”

The woman gives a bit of a lopsided smile in reaction. She keeps her eyes on the road ahead as she responds to Kim, “Well, all right, then. That’s quite a ways away, ain’t it? Best of luck with that. I hope you get the job you’re lookin’ for. Must be darn good if you’re here out of state for it.”

“Thanks,” Kim says in response. “I sure hope so, too. I could really use this job.” She’s been searching for a much-needed catalyst to invoke change in her life. Being this far away from New Mexico is already helping, in a way — if she doesn’t have so many physical memories of her past lingering around as much, she may have a chance at healthily moving on.

The fortunate thing is that Kim arrives at Madrigal’s building on time; thank god, because the last thing she wants is to show up late to an interview. Making a positive first impression is a priority of hers. She wants to do things right, wants to be punctual and on-time. The interior of the main building is incredibly modern and has a much more distinct appearance from any of the law firms or offices that Kim had worked on. Busy employees dressed in suits and ties hurry about, walking by her and going about their business as she takes a seat in the waiting area, crossing her legs and examining her surroundings. The waiting area is wide-open and minimally decorated for the most part, save for a set of three massive paintings that decorate the walls. The paintings are abstract in nature and have brushstrokes of white, orange-red and black with little form to them.

It doesn’t take long for her to be called upon and greeted by a sharp-dressed young man with a striped tie and short, neatly-cut brown hair who recognizes her instantly, approaching her with a polite smile. He appears to be an assistant — not a boss-looking type, but his attitude is professional and welcoming.

“Are you Miss Wexler?” He asks politely.

It’s difficult to hear anything other than Mrs. before her name; it just feels wrong, even though it’s the reality of her status as a divorcée. Kim nods her head, regardless of the emotions welling within her, and smiles in an equally polite manner. “Yep. That’s me.”

The man gestures for Kim to follow him. “Right this way, then. Miss Quayle will be seeing you now.”

Kim, of course, follows along as the man leads Kim down a hallway, through a room full of cubicles and energetically chattering workers, and then toward the final destination: a glass-walled office. The assistant holds open the door for Kim, and upon stepping in, she gets a good look at the room. There’s a petite woman sitting behind a large glass desk, a large window behind her. Her perfectly straightened hair is dark — _a brown color so dark it’s nearly black_ — and long, ending several inches past her shoulder. This woman must be the boss, if Kim had to take a guess; there’s a Platinum Award for outstanding leadership in business addressed to Lydia Rodarte-Quayle. 

_Rodarte-Quayle,_ huh? What an elaborate name. It sounds like a _designer_ name, like a brand of clothing or shoes that Kim wouldn’t be able to afford. She pictures some overly wealthy individual boasting, _‘Oh, this little number? It’s a Rodarte-Quayle exclusive.’_ It just sounds so _fancy._

Miss Lydia herself even has a rather fancy and formal look to her, fitting that miscellaneous thought popping up in Kim’s head. She’s wearing a smooth black blazer with a sky-blue button-up blouse underneath, a shiny silver necklace adorning her neck and matching earrings upon her lobes. Her nails are cut short, painted a pearlescent pink sheen that glistens in the bright lighting of her office, reflecting light from the massive window behind Lydia.

_She’s very pretty._

Lydia Rodarte-Quayle smiles at her assistant and quietly thanks him for retrieving Kim before he parts ways and heads out of the office. Lydia then turns her focus to Kim and stands, extending a hand to her. “Lydia Rodarte-Quayle, head of Logistics. You must be Kim?”

Kim shakes Lydia’s hand — her hand is small and her skin is soft, yet her handshake is firm and confident. “That’s me,” Kim confirms with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lydia. Glad to be here.”

Lydia smiles, appearing to be quite pleased by the introduction. She sits back down at her desk, gesturing for Kim to have a seat at the chair adjacent. “Please, make yourself comfortable. It’s not every day that I get an applicant from all the way over in Albuquerque.”

Taking a seat, Kim smooths out her skirt, trying to find something to do with her hands. Ultimately, she decides to simply rest them upon her lap. She’s not sure why she’s still anxious; it must be the formality of it all. Maybe, admittedly, she’s a little on the distracted side due to the fact that Lydia’s incredibly beautiful. Not that Kim’s focused on it, but — _well, she can’t exactly ignore it, either._

Kim just nods her head, going along with the conversation. “It’s not every day that I apply for jobs in Houston, but I’m happy to be here. Thank you for seeing me today.”

Lydia inhales sharply, looking down at a set of papers, of which Kim can guess is her resumé. “It’s my pleasure. I’m certainly glad to have you here as well, Ms. Wexler,” she says rather matter-of-factly, her eyes busily trailing down the length of the papers before her. “I’ve read over your resumé and I have to say, I was _very_ surprised by the history of your employment — pleasantly surprised, _um,_ to be more specific. Madrigal Electromotive could really use a lawyer with your intellect and dedication on our legal team.”

Hearing that causes Kim’s eyes to light up — nothing gives her a confidence boost like some positive affirmation about her intellectual capabilities. It’s _definitely_ not because a lovely woman is complimenting her. _Not at all._ At least, that’s what Kim’s telling herself internally. She, of course, keeps her response respectful and professional. “I appreciate that, Miss Quayle. I’d be honored to join your legal team.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Lydia breathes out a soft breath akin to a chuckle as she flips through Kim’s papers, examining them once again, if only briefly. She then glances back to her with a great deal of attentiveness in her eyes, her focus entirely on Kim. Her gaze is certainly rather attention-grabbing, to say the least. “I’d have you on retainer, of course, if you’re willing and interested in that sort of position.”

Such words leave a positive impression on Kim; it would seem that she’s got the job. A whole world of possibilities has opened up to her; the change will be daunting, no doubt, and she surely has her work cut out for when it comes to moving. Yet, she feels a little bit lighter, mentally-speaking, now that the weight of uncertainty is no longer bearing down on her. Lydia Rodarte-Quayle is giving her the chance to start over again, and Kim couldn’t be more grateful.

“Absolutely,” Kim tells her without even a single beat of hesitation. “I’d love that. I’ll start looking for an apartment right away.”

“Good,” Lydia says evenly, a smile on her pink-painted lips and an assured look upon her dainty features. “I look forward to working with you.”

Kim finds herself staring into Lydia’s eyes a little longer than she intends to. There’s something rather captivating about her; Kim can’t pinpoint what it is, though. That is, perhaps, something that Kim can unpack later, when she has a little more time to delve into her own feelings. For now, she tells the other woman, “The feeling is mutual.”

* * *

It takes a bit of flying between Albuquerque and Houston for Kim to find her footing. Once she’s back in town, she gets to work on finding an apartment and begins packing things up preemptively. She doesn’t go overboard with it, of course, until she decides where she’ll end up living. All the while, she fights the urge to call Jimmy and tell him that she’s planning on moving; they haven’t spoken in a while, and she worries it’ll be out-of-place and awkward confronting him about this, at best. At worst, her heart may break all over again.

She opts for telling him over email, because that seems to be the only way that she can contact him nowadays without her emotions overtaking her. Jimmy wishes her luck in his response, though not being able to hear the tone of his voice does leave his reply feeling somewhat ambiguous when she reads it. It’s the most contact they’ve had in weeks, and it seems to be the best that they’ll have.

Kim finds an apartment that she thinks will suit her, just North of downtown Houston. The place is a close enough drive to Madrigal Electromotive’s Texas branch that it won’t take long for her to get to work, traffic permitted. It’s a cozy one-room apartment that reminds her a little bit of her place back in Alburquerque if not a bit smaller. As she’s taking a look through the place to get a better look at the interior, she’s hit with the memory of her and Jimmy playfully exploring for-sale homes together and messing around with the shower. It doesn't feel so long ago that things were so simple, so filled with love and joy, and it’s hard not to let the thought linger in the back of her head as she’s standing in the apartment’s bathroom for the first time.

The loneliness could eat a hole through her heart, but she won’t let it stop her from pushing forward. Moving on will be easier said than done — Kim knows that it will take time to get adjusted to her loss, and to become familiar with the place she’s moving to. She’ll make a new life here for herself, even if it’ll be a challenge; her future is her own hands now, and though she may still hurt, she knows that she’ll be able to handle herself.


	2. Madrigal's New Lawyer

At night, if one were to traverse through the hallway in Lydia's home, the marvel of Houston would become abundantly apparent. It's a dazzling show, an elaborately woven tapestry of city lights shimmering and glistening throughout the darkness. Sometimes, when Lydia is alone after putting her young daughter Kiira to bed, she stands by that massive glass plane and watches the world go by. The headlights and taillights of cars come and go as the vehicles dart behind buildings and flash into view, distant strangers going about their intricate lives in ways that she'll never know any details about. The glimmer of the cityscape makes up for a sky with stars hidden by light pollution. It’s a man-made marvel she’d never grow tired of seeing. It’s truly humbling.

Her mind wanders, in these sorts of times. She thinks about how she's made a home here for herself and her daughter, and how much safer it is for a baby girl to grow up in a well-furnished home filled with lovingly curated artwork and a mother who is present and dedicated. She thinks about how this home is far superior to a group home filled with aggressive, affection-starved children who compete for attention from adult staff too overworked and uncaring to provide it. She thinks of how Kiira will never have to experience the horrors Lydia herself had when she was young, and she feels relief.

When she catches sight of her own reflection in that shiny glass, green doe-like eyes widened and awe-stricken by the sight of the city, Lydia is pulled back to reality. She composes herself and walks along to her bedroom, the  _ click click click _ of her red-soled high heels  _ (which she forgot to take off after work) _ echoing through the hall. It's not very late, but she's exhausted after working all day and attending a rather lengthy meeting with some of Madrigal's executives from other branches. She is undoubtedly passionate about her job, yes, though it can be tiring at times.

Tomorrow, she will begin her first day working with a woman by the name of Kimberly Wexler, who applied for the position of a lawyer for Madrigal several weeks ago. Lydia can recall her own reaction to learning that Kimberly happened to live all the way over in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  _ That's where Gustavo lives, _ Lydia thought to herself at the time. A simple coincidence like that was enough to raise Lydia's brows and elicit a thoughtful little ' _ huh' _ from her at the time she’d learned such a fact. Other than the fact that Ms. Wexler previously resided in Albuquerque, though, Lydia knows this about her: she’s a highly-esteemed lawyer who’s got a remarkable record when it comes to her previous employment. Someone like her will likely make a great asset to Madrigal Electromotive. Considering the underlying nature of the company, a skilled lawyer will certainly help keep Madrigal secure.

Lydia sets her alarm for 6 AM for the following morning, takes a dose of melatonin, and reads a book before bed. It isn’t long before she begins to drift off, feeling her stress levels go down enough to allow sleep. She falls asleep soon and dreams of the complexities of train traffic and methylamine transportation.

* * *

Kim is dressed rather sharply when Lydia sees her the following day, wearing a navy blue dress. Her hair is tied into a ponytail with a perfect little curl at the end. She has excellent posture, and the heels she is wearing emphasize her legs quite well. Lydia tries not to stare or let her mind go in all of the  _ sapphic _ directions it could go, though it’s hard  _ not _ to appreciate the other woman’s appearance. She’s very well put-together, and Lydia  _ always _ appreciates a nicely dressed woman.

“Miss Wexler,” Lydia begins, a polite smile on her face — the expression is more of a polite gesture, though perhaps there is some degree of genuineness to it. She won’t deny that she’s eager to begin working with the other woman, all potential elements of  _ physical attraction _ set aside. That’s something Lydia needn’t dwell on. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same to you,” Kim replies enthusiastically, her low voice quite pleasing on the ears. “I’m looking forward to my first day here.”

“Glad to hear it. Today, we’ll just be going through basic orientation, as well as a tour of the building so you can get acquainted with where you’ll be working,” Lydia says, beckoning for Kim to follow her as her  _ Louboutins _ click against the floor. For a woman who’s on the shorter end, Lydia walks quickly and makes efficient use of her time with each step. “I’ve prepared an office for you as well — on the same floor as my own, as to maximize workflow and whatnot, if that all sounds good to you.”

Kim keeps up with her well, appearing to register everything that Lydia’s told her quite easily. “Sounds good to me,” she replies. “Whatever you need, I’m here. Lead the way, and I’ll be right with you.”

_ Loyal and dedicated. _ Lydia likes that. It seems that she has made a good choice by going with Kim; this is  _ good. _ When it comes to Madrigal’s true nature, the company is overall very discreet. Even so, were the company ever to land itself in legal trouble, she needs someone with a strong sense of loyalty by her side. “Wonderful,” she replies, visibly pleased with that answer. Another, completely unrelated thought hits her at that moment and she adds, “By the way, we have catering on Wednesdays and Fridays. No rush, but once you figure out what food you’d like to get delivered, you can let me or my assistant know and we’ll get that set up.”

“I’ll definitely start brainstorming what I want.” Kim nods, her ponytail bouncing with her head’s movement. “Thanks for the heads up on that.” Raising a hand, she gives Lydia a thumbs up.

Lydia gives her a look of acknowledgement. “Of course.” She cannot help but to be somewhat amused by the hand gesture. It’s…  _ charming. _

Ever so detail-oriented, Lydia is never the type to miss out on the finer details like so. This becomes all the more evident as she shows her new lawyer around the facility, from the lobby to the break room, to the general direction of the restrooms and various other accessible areas. The two women even make a quick stop by the warehouse, not to familiarize Kim with it  _ in-depth, _ but to get the jist of where it is, on the off-chance that Kim ever needs to go there for any reason. Then comes the floor in which Lydia and Kim will be working together, which Lydia guides the other woman through while pointing out the direction to restrooms and the like. The tour ends in Kim’s brand new office, which Lydia proudly leads her to. Though it overall appears to be somewhat  _ impersonal _ now, with an empty desk, it’s not by any means a bare-bones setup. Lydia has ensured that the room is well decorated, even going so far as to use her eye as an  _ art enthusiast _ to select a painting to hang on the wall. It’s an abstract piece, yet it maintains an eye-catching level of structure and, to Lydia, is abundantly intriguing to look at. She hopes Kim likes what she’s chosen for her office.

“That should be it for the tour,” Lydia tells Kim, taking a deep breath. “This here is your office. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need special accommodations, or anything else.” She has tired herself out just a  _ little bit _ from walking around so much, though that could be for the best. Being such a high-strung individual  _ does _ mean she has a lot of nervous energy to work off on a daily basis. Watching as Kim takes in the appearance of her new office, she’s relieved when the blonde looks at her with an approving gaze.

“Everything looks great to me,” Kim tells her, and her eyes shift toward the painting hung on the wall near her. Looking over at the piece, she comments, “The art’s a nice touch.”

_ Approval! _ Yes, that’s what Lydia’s been searching for. She grins, even somewhat  _ bashful, _ if only for a moment. The rare expression doesn't last long before it's replaced by something more prideful. “Oh, thank you. I picked it out myself, purchased it at a local gallery. I’m very glad you like it.” Being as enthusiastic about art as she is, she very much likes patronizing local artists. The work adds character to an otherwise minimalist office.

“Wow,” Kim says, continuing to look over the art. “So, are you pretty into art?”

Lydia's not sure if Kim is simply asking the question as a professional courtesy or if she's genuinely interested in knowing more about  _ her. _ It's difficult to pinpoint, as Lydia often feels a bit muddled when conversation goes from workplace banter to talking about anything remotely personal. It admittedly takes her a moment to respond. “Oh—” She stammers out, laughing almost silently under her breath, “Yes, I am! I haven't really,  _ um, created _ much art in my life, per se, but I'm definitely an admirer of the arts.” Her hands fidget as she speaks, not entirely sure where to go with what she's saying, now that she's run off her  _ professional socialization script. _

Maybe it's the fact that Kim is really quite  _ cute. _ Perhaps that's why Lydia is reacting this way, feeling so shy all of a sudden. She wouldn't ordinarily behave in such a manner, if it weren't for someone so stunning taking a little bit of interest in her life. Thank  _ god _ none of her lower-level employees are here to witness this lapse in proper, authoritative behavior. She'd hate to embarrass herself. 

Continuing, Lydia adds, as casually as she can, “If you like  _ this _ painting, you should take a look at my house. My walls are just covered in  _ incredible _ artwork—” She cuts herself off, realizing she's about to go on a potentially long-winded tangent that's much too personal. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to go off on such an unprofessional digression.”  _ How embarrassing, Lydia!  _

Yet, in spite of it all, Kim reassures her. “That is  _ totally _ okay,” she says with a casual little wave of her hand and an understanding smile. “I'm sure your house is lovely.”

Lydia smiles.

* * *

On the next day, Lydia works with Kim on establishing further knowledge of Madrigal Electromotive. She provides her with some documents to go over throughout the day, things she’d like legal advice on and so forth. Obviously, none of it’s related to the more  _ illicit business _ Lydia conducts; it’s all  _ totally legal _ surface-level matters.

Once lunch break rolls around, she invites Kim to join her. She’s delighted when Kim accepts her invitation, though she maintains her professionalism throughout and doesn’t show  _ too _ much enthusiasm. Lydia shows Kim the way to a nearby cafe, one that serves food as well as  _ chamomile tea. _ That’s pretty much a given when it comes to the restaurants she selects — she likes being able to order her favorite drink whenever possible. It may seem like a small thing, but it makes a world of a difference in her own routine.

“So, Miss Wexler, what inspired you to move all the way out to Houston?” Lydia’s hands fidget as she speaks, fingers fluttering against one another idly but ceasing to gesture one hand through the air in a sort of,  _ ‘oh, this is obvious’ _ type of movement. She smiles, adding, “I mean, aside from this job, that is.”

“Please, you can just call me Kim,” Wexler replies, her ponytail swaying and bouncing as she shakes her head. She picks up the neatly folded napkin in front of her and unfolds it, placing it onto her lap.

“Certainly,  _ Kim,” _ Lydia replies in acknowledgement, correcting herself, although her eyes remain on Kim, brow raising in a questioning manner. “I don’t mean to press. It’s just that Albuquerque is awfully far from here. I can’t help but be a little bit curious.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Kim is quick to tell her, though she hesitates. “Uh, have you heard of someone named Saul Goodman? Maybe you’ve seen the commercials on TV, or all the billboards around Albuquerque? They’re  _ pretty _ hard to miss.”

Lydia pauses, tries to conjure up the image in her mind. She doesn’t come up with anything, though.  _ “Saul Goodman,” _ she repeats, testing the name on her tongue. “No, I don’t believe I have. I — I don’t know, maybe I’ve seen the billboards but didn’t think much of them.  _ Should _ I be familiar with the name?”

For a split second, there’s a hint of surprise in those stunning blue eyes Kim has, but the expression shifts into a more pensive, hesitant look. “Not necessarily. It’s just that he—” Dragging that last syllable out, Kim hesitated. “—is my ex husband, basically, and he was a local lawyer as well. It was hard to drive around town without seeing the advertisements, and…  _ well, _ it was hard to  _ see _ them, too.”

“My condolences,” Lydia tells her, though she’s not sure if that’s the right phrase to use. It’s much too late to take the words back now that she’s said them, though. She swallows nervously, watching Kim’s face to gauge her response. “I… I assume that the two of you aren’t on best terms, then?”

Kim replies quite appreciatively. “Thank you,” she says before elaborating, “We weren’t on the  _ worst _ terms, but, I mean, once you see your ex’s face enough times on the television and billboards…” She makes a face that suggests the overall unpleasantness of the situation, and then adds apologetically, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so personal. You probably don’t want to hear all the terrible details of your new lawyer’s life.”

Lydia is about to reply when a waiter steps over to the table, “Hey there. Can I get you ladies started with anything to drink?” He asks, a notepad in his hand and a bright, overly polite smile on his face. How  _ timely _ of him to interrupt.

“I’ll just have water,” Kim tells him. “Thanks.”

The man turns to Lydia, prompting her to reply, “I’ll have chamomile tea with soy milk, please.” The restaurant she’s chosen can fulfill her specific order, which is precisely why she suggested that Kim join her at such a place. She waits for the waiter to leave before speaking again. “Anyway, it doesn’t bother me if you’d like to talk about your personal life. I can see why getting a fresh start elsewhere could be good for morale, among other things.”

"Definitely." Kim manages a slight smile, and Lydia feels her heart fill with a fluttering sensation that’s incredibly difficult to ignore. “Definitely. A fresh start is what I need.”

"So, are you from Albuquerque originally?"

Shaking her head, Kim replies, "I'm actually from a small town by the Kansas-Nebraska border, uh, specifically Red Cloud.”

“Hm,” Lydia hums softly in thought. “I’ve never been. What’s Red Cloud like?”

“Well, there’s not a  _ lot _ to do out there,” Kim answers, rolling her shoulders into a shrug. “It’s got a population of less than two-thousand, so everyone in town knows everyone. Uh, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Willa Cather lived in Red Cloud, as far as the town history goes. Other than that, it’s definitely not the place for an aspiring lawyer to stay in. I got out and moved to Albuquerque once I was old enough.”

“Ah.” Lydia nods her head in understanding acknowledgement. “I can see why a place like that could have held you back.”

“Oh, definitely,” Kim says. “I had a lot of reasons to leave, but — yeah, overall, New Mexico felt like more of a home in some ways. I have a lot more happy memories working in an Albuquerque law firm’s mail room than in Red Cloud.”

“It sounds like you were very determined to make a life of your own,” Lydia says. Before she can continue, though, their waiter returns with their drinks.

“Here you are,” the man says to the two women, setting the drinks onto the table. “Are you ready to order lunch?”

“Yeah,” Kim says, gesturing to her menu she’s been looking over. “I’ll have the soup and sandwich combo with minestrone soup.”

“I’ll take a salad,” Lydia tells the man. “Thanks.”

She waits until the waiter is gone before she not-very-discreetly sets her purse into her lap, zipping it open to take out a packet of stevia, toying with the closed package for a moment. She realizes that her rather specific drink-related rituals could be considered unorthodox or bizarre, adding her own sweetener in the middle of a public restaurant, but she likes her creature comforts.

Kim notices this and directs a rather curious glance toward Lydia. “What’s that?”

“Stevia,” Lydia explains, continuing to fidget with the packet in her hands. “I like to add it to my tea. Most restaurants don’t offer it, so I bring my own. Would you like some?”

“Uh, for my water?” Kim asks, looking at the glass of water before her and letting out a little laugh. “I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“It’s actually quite nice in water, too,” Lydia murmurs as she tears open the packaging, watching the granulated sweetener shift as it falls into her own drink. She stirs it with one of the spoons the restaurant has provided. The whole process of watching it dissolve into the tea is calming to her, for some reason she can’t quite pinpoint. “If you ever change your mind, I always keep extra stevia on me.”

“I will certainly keep that in mind,” Kim replies before she changes the subject. “So, where are you from?”

Is it  _ strange _ for Lydia to feel that little fluttering feeling in her chest when being asked, by Kim, about her personal life? She smiles, making a little gesture with her hand. “Oh, just Houston. I’ve been here my whole life. I mean, aside from all of the times I’ve traveled, of course.” Taking the mug of tea into both hands, she lifts it to her lips and takes a sip. The taste of her favorite drink is a welcome flavor.

“You've traveled a lot?” Kim asks her, intrigued. At least, she  _ seems _ intrigued, and Lydia can hope that her intrigue is genuine as opposed to simply being a polite gesture. “Where have you been to?”

Lydia perks up at this question. Kim is really giving her plenty of opportunities to talk about herself, isn't she? It must be a rare thing, because she's not sure she's had many people from work be  _ this _ curious about her. “Several places, really,” she says, setting her tea down after taking another sip. “This job has a good amount of traveling involved at times, since Madrigal is an international company. I've therefore visited Germany plenty of times, Berlin in particular, but I've also spent a good amount of time in the Czech Republic — Prague, as well as Long Beach, which is one of our other American locations.” Each location all came with such a unique experience and  _ beauty _ along with it, so many cities with their own individual styles of architecture and sights to see during off-time. “I've been to China once as well, too. Of course, I needed a translator that time, seeing as my Mandarin isn't even conversational level.” She lets out a  _ humble _ little laugh beneath her breath.

“Wow,” Kim replies, and there's an impressed look on her face, “Sounds like you've lived quite the life.”

“I've certainly taken a lot of business trips,” Lydia says, and she can't help but smile just a little over the look on Kim's face. “You'll get plenty of opportunities to travel now that we're working together. Madrigal has divisions all over the world, so...” Trailing off, she takes a sip of her tea before continuing. “I'd suggest ensuring your passport is up to date if you haven't done so already. You know, just to make sure everything is in order once the occasion comes up.”

Kim nods her head in understanding. “I will certainly keep that in mind.” Picking her napkin up from the table, she unfolds it and smooths it out onto her lap in preparation for the upcoming meal.

It isn’t long at all before the waiter arrives with their food, and he sets the plates down in front of the two women with a friendly look upon his face. “I hope you both enjoy your lunch. Can I get you anything else while I’m here?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Kim tells him.

Lydia chimes in with a similar, “No, thank you.”

The two women begin to eat, and what follows is a silence that is neither awkward nor uncomfortable; it feels like the easiest part of a social interaction for Lydia. Just sitting idly with another person and eating lunch together alone is an easy task. Lydia’s enjoying her salad very much, and as it happens, a conversational idea hits her as she’s finished a bite.

“So, how is your new apartment suiting you? I recall you mentioning searching for a place when we first met.”

“Oh,” Kim replies, her mouth still full of the sandwich she bit into. She waits until swallowing before she responds. “It’s good, yeah. I mean, so far it’s mostly just boxes, so it’s not a lot to look at. Place is pretty bare bones at the moment, but, uh, other than that, I like it. It's a nice location.”

“That’s great to hear,” Lydia replies. “I take it you’re still in the process of unpacking your belongings?”

Kim nods her head. “Sure am. I’d invite you over to check the place out, but I don’t even have a couch or anything up yet. I don’t know if I could be a proper host until I unpack at  _ least _ half of all my cardboard boxes.”

“I understand,” says Lydia. She contemplates leaving her response at just that and continuing quietly eating, but something in the back of her head urges her to continue speaking. It’s the mention of  _ inviting her over _ that sticks in Lydia’s thoughts. “Though, for what it’s worth, I’d be happy to help you unpack. I — I mean, if that isn’t a terribly bold offer to make.”

_ What is she saying? _ Lydia never offers anything like this to other people — not to any of her employees or co-workers, at least. Could it be that she’s searching for an excuse to be around Kim outside of the perimeters of the office?  _ Maybe. _ Yes, actually, that  _ is _ the case, though she’s not sure if she’d readily confirm it if prompted to. The truth of the matter is that Lydia is a rather lonely person beyond her professional exterior; she has one friend, overall, and he happens to live a state away. Not  _ only _ that, but she essentially only spends time with said friend,  _ Gustavo Fring, _ when on official business during trips. Is it ethical to want a local friend, if that friend happens to also be a lawyer she’s writing paychecks for? Is it not natural for a woman who, in spite of her solitary nature, might tend to seek the company of other women? Or, is her offer truly bold and unprofessional when the two of them have barely even spent that much time with one another? Lydia could go on with her thoughts of insecurity. Fortunately, Kim snaps her out of that when she replies.

“Wait, really?” She’s evidently surprised by the offer, indicating that she wouldn't have expected it. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to inconvenience you. It’s hardly any fun to spend your time opening up boxes all day.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Lydia says, as if this isn’t a huge gesture for someone like her, someone who isn’t naturally socially inclined. Truthfully, if she’s extending a favor to  _ anyone, _ she’s doing something big, but it works in her own favor to behave as if that’s not the case. “It would be nice to have something to do with my hands outside of the workplace. I’d love to check out your apartment, too.”

There’s a rather genuine, authentic looking smile on Kim’s face. It’s quite cute. “Lydia, that’s so nice of you to offer. I’d really appreciate the help.”

“When would you like me to come over, then? I'm typically the most free on the weekends, if that works for you.” Any day she has off of work would be for the best; that way, she’ll not only have time to prepare herself mentally, but she also won’t be coming to Kim’s new home carrying the burden of anxiety after a full day of work.

“Sure, the weekend works for me. How about, uh, Saturday?” Kim asks.

Lydia nods affirmatively. “Saturday would be great.”

_ How exciting! _ For once, Lydia has  _ actually _ made some plans with another person that don’t involve work-related manners. She’ll admit, the idea of doing something like this makes her a little bit nervous — yet, it’s not the  _ worst _ kind of nervousness. For someone who’s essentially always on edge, she supposes it’s normal to feel a little anxious about an upcoming plan. It will be nice, Lydia thinks, to get to know Kim a little better. She can tell herself that herself it's for the sake of familiarizing herself with her new lawyer; she’d be lying if she claimed that there weren’t a more  _ personal _ aspect to it, though,

Saturday is less than a week away, and Lydia is already looking forward to it.

* * *

After lunch, the two women return to Madrigal. Lydia goes to her office to keep herself busy with her logistics work. There’s a shipment in Long Beach that she has to oversee, and a few other miscellaneous shipments as well. There are plenty of details to change in the system to ensure nobody knows that she’s illegally transporting methylamine to Fring.

There was a time when the very act had made her indescribably nervous. Lydia hadn’t initially entered the field of logistics expecting to end up becoming one of the more powerful assets to the methamphetamine trade. She’d come into the job a bright-eyed young woman with dreams of making it big in business, but instead things worked out rather differently. When she first met Gustavo, everything changed. Her first time  _ bending the rules _ with shipments left her with clammy, shaky hands and sleepless nights as she questioned the choices she made.

Now, it’s second nature, and to be honest, Lydia  _ enjoys _ what she does. There’s even a thrill to it, and the financial security that comes with the job is certainly nice. She hadn’t exactly grown up with wealth, being raised in a group home. Now that she's grown, Lydia is in a significantly better position as far as money goes. She wholly believes that the more money she acquires, the safer she and her daughter will be.

When the work day ends, Lydia keeps her cellphone close to her and places a call. When a familiar voice answers with a low, smooth tone, she finds herself feeling a little more at ease. 

“Good evening, my friend,” is how Gustavo greets her. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m — I’m well, thank you,” Lydia replies, though she somewhat struggles to articulate her feelings. The anticipation about upcoming plans is complicating her usual thought processes. “And how about yourself? Are you doing well?”

“I am feeling decent enough,” he replies. His voice is level as it is, and Lydia already has a difficult enough time reading others’ tones. He sounds calm, though. “Thank you for asking.”

Lydia nods her head. Not that Gus can see this on the other end of the phone. “Well, of course. I’m glad to know you’re faring well. Um, I just wanted to check in with you, let you know that things are going well — with the new lawyer, that is. I believe she’s going to be a perfect fit to our company.”

Gustavo is quiet for a moment before replying, “That’s excellent to hear. Do you believe we can trust her when it comes to the more  _ private _ details of what Madrigal does?”

He must be referring to the illegal activities that the company partakes in. It's hard to imagine that he's referencing anything else.

“I think so, yes,” Lydia says. “Miss Wexler has an impressive record of employment from some very prestigious law firms, but aside from that, she has a history of taking on pro-bono defense cases. That’s — that’s not to say we’ll necessarily  _ need _ that defense, but should we land ourselves in hot water, or what have you…”

Her voice trails off, her free hand –  _ the one not currently holding the phone _ – fidgeting. Is she sounding  _ guilty? _ Certainly, she doesn’t mean to, especially not when calls aren’t the most secure way to converse about organized crime. It's hard not to feel self-conscious about her words over the phone.

Lydia winces sheepishly. “Anyways, what I mean to say is that, should we require her services, I think she’d do an excellent job protecting us.”

“Very well, then. I trust your judgment,” says Gus. “I’m glad to hear that things are going well so far.”

“Yes,  _ yes _ — they definitely  _ are _ going well!” Lydia replies a little too enthusiastically. Feeling suddenly aware of how much emphasis she put into that sentence, she goes quiet for a moment. It’s a few seconds before she adds, with a little bit of excitement still audible, “She invited me over to her apartment this Saturday.”

“Interesting,” Gus says quite thoughtfully, “and do you plan to go?”

“I do,” Lydia confirms. “I’m  _ actually _ kind of excited about it. She’s such a…  _ oh, _ I don’t know, she’s just very fascinating, I think.”

She thinks she might hear Gus chuckle on the other end of the receiver. It’s hard to tell, because he tends to be so quiet, but Lydia  _ thinks _ she may have heard something reflecting amusement from his end.

“I’m glad to hear that everything is going well,” Gus says to her, and he sounds supportive.

Hearing that reassures Lydia. Of course, she considers him her closest friend and confidante — but he still does hold a high position in the company, and other than that, Lydia greatly admires him. She highly values his opinion, so receiving such a response from him is important.

Lydia is sure to reply, “It is. We’re going to be in good hands.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Gus says. “Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?”

“That's all for now,” Lydia tells him. “Have a good evening.”

“You have a  good evening as well, Lydia.”


End file.
